Every day on NPR, and every day in the newspaper, I encounter a story on the two-month-old strike of America's movie and TV script writers. To which I respond: Who Cares?
The media are enthralled by the story, but I have yet to hear even one person at work, home, or church comment on the strike. Not a single person. Who Cares?
"There will be fewer new series on TV for the balance of this year." Who Cares? (I don't watch TV, anyway.)
"There may be fewer new movies at the cineplex." Who Cares? (I haven't found time for half the already-extant movies I'd like to see, and my favorites usually aren't from the U.S., anyway.)
If the writers never came off strike, my life wouldn't change. Would yours?
If the writers never came off strike, we could still read books. There's no book strike, and even if there were, I've got a 10-year backlog on my shelves at home . . . and another 1,000 years' worth at the library.
If the writers never came off strike, we could listen to music or go to concerts.
If the writers never came off strike, maybe more people would read my blog. Now there's something I could care about!
But what if things got really, really desperate? Perhaps we could relearn the art of conversation.